


Aoidos

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Past Alexios/Male OC, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-17 07:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Alexios tells the story of an encounter he had with an Athenian philosopher. His audience of one, Brasidas, would rather be involved in the tale than sit and listen.





	Aoidos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).

“I mean, I took the job, but it seemed ridiculous to harm him over such a trifle. His former lover sounded like he would be happy if he ended up crippled or dead. This Simonides, though, he was more use talking than fighting and no real danger to anyone.” Alexios shrugged. “So I figured... his house is well-guarded, but there’s no reason I can’t get him to lead me through the front door and to where he keeps the box of letters that jilted politician wanted so badly.”

Brasidas grabbed the bottle of wine that stood between them on the ground and refilled Alexios’ cup before topping off his own. They were sitting in the main room of Alexios’ newly reclaimed childhood home between somewhat dusty but still comfortable pillows, the summer heat humid after a quick torrent of rain. His mother had gone to stay the night with old friends and so they had a rare moment alone. Alexios was glad for it; he did always hate sharing Brasidas’ attention with anyone and they could rarely carve out a few hours’ time to simply talk of their lives.

“And where did he store that box?” Brasidas asked as he handed Alexios’ cup back to him. He’d been happily listening to tales of Alexios’ adventure since the sun had gone down, leaving them in the orange light of torches.

“The bedroom.”

Brasidas threw his head back as he laughed. “You took the soft approach.”

“Not at all. I went in hard,” Alexios murmured, grinning at Brasidas over the rim of his cup.

With a snort, Brasidas leaned back into the wall. “Not a great sacrifice, I’m assuming?”

“Simonides could talk from morning to evening, but that’s Athenian philosophers for you. He was handsome, anyway, and I gave him something else to do with his mouth.” Alexios raised up his hands. “But I wouldn’t bother you with the details. A stern Spartan warrior might blush for so much Athenian decadence...”

“How disappointing. I’d rather like to know how you earn your coin, though I did not realise you were in _this_ line of work.”

Alexios elbowed Brasidas, smirking.

“I’m just taking my opportunities were I see them. Much better to sink your manhood into someone rather than your blade if there’s a choice.”

“I guess that much is true.”

Brasidas smiled briefly. It had always endeared Alexios to him that despite his Spartan upbringing, he seemed to have grown weary of needless violence eventually when others celebrated it. There was a note of melancholy to his wisdom, to be true, that made Alexios wonder which bloodbath had been the one that pushed Brasidas over the edge, but he liked the trait in him nonetheless.

“So how do you go about tiring a man out to such a degree that he doesn’t notice you digging around his bedroom for a box?” Brasidas asked.

“Well, as for everything, you need the right tools.” Alexios cocked his head, pointedly casual as he waved his hand. “Most men need a break after I am through with them.”

Brasidas raised his brows at him, though Alexios saw his gaze flicker curiously downward for just a moment. “You clearly don’t lack in confidence.”

“False humility isn’t a virtue,” Alexios said with a shrug and a grin. He’d seen enough men naked to say that he was bigger than most. “Although the tools matter little if you don’t know how to apply them. With Simonides, I could see he was looking for adventure. People can ask some things of a mercenary just passing through that they wouldn’t of a man they’d have to look in the eyes at the public assembly.”

He watched Brasidas from the corners of his eyes as he spoke. Perhaps with a little less wine he would not have pushed forward so boldly, but then, Brasidas was looking at him attentively, making no attempt to steer the conversation back into safer waters, and Alexios had always been rather bad at avoiding tempting, dangerous paths if no one made a concerted effort to stop him.

“You won’t find me complaining, I enjoy it when people don’t feel the need to bring shame into bed with me,” he continued. “Simonides wanted to see if I could take him up against the wall and I proved myself.”

Brasidas’ eyes did not leave Alexios’ face. “Your luck he was an Athenian philosopher, not a Spartan soldier. We are a lot harder to lift.”

“True – though I think I could still show one of you a good time. I like a challenge and a man who can give as good as he gets.”

He looked down to admire Brasidas’ broad shoulders, which were uncovered by the sleeveless tunic he wore. When he raised his eyes again, he found Brasidas had followed the trajectory of his gaze, as he lifted his chin, too.

“Do you always let your partners choose, then, or did you ask for something of him, too?”

Alexios had not, in fact, as his conquest had been plenty satisfied with him after one go and sleepy enough for Alexios to accomplish his quest, but if Brasidas wanted to hear more, Alexios was all too ready to provide, truth be damned.

So he wouldn’t seem as nervously eager as he felt, Alexios sipped from his wine, which also gave him some time to think which direction to take. At the moment, he was happy just to stare at Brasidas, who was slightly flushed from the heat and the wine, tunic riding up his powerful legs. The desire to see more of him from the best angle possible finally did spark an idea.

“I’d done my work, so I figured he could try a little, too,” Alexios said, licking his lips, which seemed suddenly dry. “I laid back on the bed and had him climb on me. I made him take off his clothes first, though. I like a view.” And if the man had been Brasidas, he would have used every second to admire the sight of his body over him.

“Was he struggling, as you claim to be so gifted?” Brasidas asked.

Alexios, who was very taken with his naked legs, noticed that he had shifted one, drawing his knee up to his chest. It blocked Alexios’ view on his middle. It could have been coincidence, but then, why would he have asked such a question if he was not interested? Alexios’ nerves were drawn as the strings on a lute.

“Perhaps a little, but I’d just taken him and he told me he loved feeling so full. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself forever, of course. Held him by the hips and kept him still so I could fuck him…”

“Really? If a man put me on his lap, I’d be setting the pace,” Brasidas said, a low rumble in his voice.

Alexios grinned, worried that Brasidas’ tone had left him with an obvious problem and somehow convinced it didn’t matter anymore.

“I guess your man would have to be strong enough to take it up with you. I always liked a little friendly competition.”

“Then your partner was ill-chosen. I doubt any Athenian philosopher is going to stand a chance pitting his strength against yours. There are better matches...”

Brasidas stared at him and Alexios surged forward and crashed their mouths together, convinced that if he did not do it now, he’d never get such a chance again.

Brasidas wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close without hesitation. The kiss was heated, but Alexios thought, or hoped, that perhaps something else culminated there than the tension built by a dirty tale. Certainly the way he clung to Brasidas probably spoke of more than simple lust, though there was enough of it, and Alexios felt gratified when he reached between Brasidas’ legs and found him already hard.

“Let’s see that tool you’re so proud of,” Brasidas joked, after swiping his tongue along Alexios’ lips.

Luckily, while Alexios’ story had veered towards tall tales by the end, he had not been exaggerating that part. With a smirk, he lifted the tunic he was wearing over his head. The cut was long and the evening hot, so he had not bothered with underclothes.

Brasidas regarded him for a moment and shook his head.

“Everyone thinks Zeus must be your patron, but Eros had a hand in forming you as well…”

Laughing, Alexios placed his hands on Brasidas’ thighs and brushed his fingers up slowly, gathering fabric on the way to his stomach and eventually pulling the garment Brasidas wore over his head. He would have liked to have teased him a little more, but now that the chance to have Brasidas close finally presented itself, if only for this evening, this night, he could not keep himself in check.

“It would be reckless of me to squander such gifts if they’re by the gods,” he said with fake reverence as he pulled Brasidas closer.

Brasidas chuckled and kissed Alexios’ jaw, the soft curls of his beard brushing against Alexios’ skin. Alexios had spent enough lonely nights camped out in the wilderness thinking about this that for a moment it felt like a dream, but the weight and warmth of Brasidas’ body told him otherwise.

Twisting an arm behind him so he did not need to relinquish his hold on Brasidas, Alexios grabbed a low bowl of oil that stood between empty plates and a basket of bread, leftovers from their supper. He dragged his fingers through the slick liquid and reached around Brasidas, massaging a thick, muscular cheek with his other hand before pulling it aside.

“Let’s see how well you do seated on this boon from Eros?” Alexios offered, pressing two fingers against his entrance, though hesitating as he waited for his answer.

“Better than your Athenian friend, I’ll wager.”

Brasidas moved backwards against his hand and as Alexios pressed a finger into him, he grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to the ground, straddling his hips. The vague vision of Brasidas naked over him suddenly in reality had Alexios’ cock straining with need and he found himself rutting helplessly against his stomach. Brasidas smiled.

“In a moment,” he said, his fingers trailing down Alexios’ naked body, one hand coming up his chest, cupping the strong muscle in his hand and rubbing his thumb gently across his nipple before he gave it a sharp prick with his blunt fingernail as he leaned down to nip at Alexios’ collarbone. Alexios grunted and pulled him up by his neck for another kiss, plunging his finger deeper into him before pulling it out quickly, then slowly pushing back, letting Brasidas feel every inch. On his way in, he pressed gently until he found that spot that he knew would distract Brasidas from the discomfort of the invasion.

Brasidas broke the kiss to draw in air, but exhaled it in a hiss when Alexios began massaging him from inside. Alexios marvelled at how beautifully responsive he was, from the expression on his face to the way the muscles in his stomach pulled taut and how his body moved against his hand in an involuntary, quick spasm.

“You made me want you on my lap now,” Alexios said, slightly breathless. “But I’d love to have you come on my fingers next.”

It was the truth and at the same time a veiled hint asking for assurance that this would not be the last time. Brasidas smiled.

“If you continue like this, I will agree to whatever you wish, Alexios, and if you want to do it in front of all of Sparta.”

Elated, Alexios grinned and entered a second finger. As he felt how relaxed Brasidas was still around it, he decided to push forward with a third, too. Over the years, he’d come to learn that it was better to do a little more, considering his size. Watching the way Brasidas’ thighs quivered and the small changes in his expression, the blissful look in his eyes, he could have been here all evening and been happy, changing angles and pace, working Brasidas’ body like a delicate machine.

Brasidas need only have enjoyed himself as obviously as he already did to please Alexios to the fullest, but after a short while, he straightened his back and, with a smile and a hand tightly wrapped around Alexios’ shoulder for purchase, began setting a slow rhythm on his fingers, his smile languid, eyes half-lidded.

“Please tell me you’re ready,” Alexios murmured. He doubted he could watch this for more than another moment or two without resisting the temptation of taking himself in hand.

Brasidas lifted himself up a little, only to fall down on his fingers again, and Alexios crooked them towards the sensitive spot in hopes of spurring his decision. Thankfully, the red hue on Brasidas’ cheeks and the sweat on his brow betrayed to Alexios he wouldn’t be able to keep this up indefinitely; and indeed, when Alexios splayed his fingers just a little and pushed them in to the knuckle, Brasidas lifted a hand in defeat.

“I yield – for now,” he said, boisterously playful, absolutely irresistible.

Alexios planted his feet on the ground to ensure he would be able to make good on his promise not to just lay back as he carefully pulled his finger from Brasidas, brushing over his balls and cock quickly before holding the base of his own manhood steady. Brasidas lowered himself on him, his hand briefly covering Alexios’ with a gentle squeeze, an oddly sweet gesture given circumstances.

Alexios had to close his eyes for a moment when Brasidas speared himself on him because he may have spent himself at the combination of the sight and the sudden gripping heat around his cock. When he did open his eyes, Brasidas had settled himself most of the way on him and leaned down to steal a quick kiss.

For as much as they had spoken of a squabble and fight, there was none of it when Brasidas started moving. It was rough and fast and would leave some bruises where they held each other, but their rhythms slotted together as naturally as a practiced dance. Alexios grabbed on tightly to Brasidas’ hips, not to direct him, but to feel the power running through him with the force of a river rushing out of the mountains in spring. He did not feel like he had to hold back a thing; Brasidas took everything he could give and then pushed himself down again, wordlessly asking for more.

Fingers shaking, Alexios took hold of Brasidas’ cock with his slicked hand. He came first regardless, overwhelmed by him, but Brasidas followed so shortly after him that Alexios could still ride out most of his peak, too, the perfect tension around him leaving him unable to do much but gasp Brasidas’ name, or whatever bits of it he could get out.

As they were finished, Brasidas sat on him for a moment, breathing heavily, before he allowed himself to fall to the side. With his discarded tunic, he wiped down his own seed covering Alexios’ chest.

“Are you going home naked?” Alexios asked with a wry grin.

“I figured you might lend me some of your clothes in the morning.”

The small, off-hand addition of the time when he planned to leave made Alexios’ stomach flip.

“I might be persuaded to. I do enjoy you without them, though.”

Smiling, Brasidas stretched out his legs, taking a deep breath. Comfortable silence spread between them.

“Did you actually sleep with an Athenian philosopher or was that all for my entertainment?” Brasidas asked, after a minute or two.

Alexios laughed.

“I did, though he fell asleep like an old dog after I had him up against the wall.” He hesitated briefly before he said: “But I think even then I already wished for a different sort of man.”

“Understandable. Spartan warriors don’t tire after one round,” Brasidas answered, rolling on his side to look at him. “Or after one night.” This bit spoken with some severity.

Alexios pulled Brasidas down on top of himself again. “Just as I like it,” he answered, and his low voice sounded raw in his own ears, dampened with some emotion, but Brasidas was good enough not to mention it and instead kissed him again.


End file.
